


Like Looking in a Mirror... Or Not?

by expectingtofly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Castiel and Dean are basically married, Crack, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, but Cas is chill with this experiment, but he's gonna sit this one out, cas is a kinky sob, smut is played for laughs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectingtofly/pseuds/expectingtofly
Summary: The HunterCorp Winchesters are back! And while his alternate world self isn't any less annoying, Dean can't ignore the endless potentials of having a doppelgänger around. So (with Cas' permission), he decides to fuck himself—his AU self, that is.Spoiler: it doesn't go well
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Dean Winchester
Kudos: 48





	Like Looking in a Mirror... Or Not?

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda a continuation of my fic [In All The Universes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24128560), but you don't really need to read it to understand this one :)
> 
> and thanks to [lu_lu6983](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_lu6983/pseuds/lu_lu6983) for beta editing :)

“Hey!” Dean called, walking into the library. “How’s my husband doing?” 

Cas sat in one of the leather armchairs, poring over a thick, leather-covered book sitting on his crossed legs. He looked up, eyes narrowed and head tilted—his adorable way of asking, _what the fuck is going on?_

Ignoring thelook, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck, kissing his cheek. “The Study of Supernatural Properties in Four-Legged Monsters,” he read, looking at the chapter Cas was reading. “Very interesting.”

Cas shut the heavy book with a bang and turned his head to look at Dean. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Dean sat down in the chair next to Cas. “I can’t casually say hello without you getting suspicious?”

“You’re too cheerful considering you’re sharing the bunker with your other world self.”

Cas was right. Sam and Dean’s alternate universe selves were back because real Sam and Dean had needed doppelgängers to trick Chuck again. Now that they were no longer needed, the rich Winchesters would be returning tomorrow to wherever they were staying these days—Dean honestly didn’t care. What did interest him, though, was the unique opportunity this situation afforded.

“Alright, hear me out,” he started. “A threesome. You, me… my not-as-hot body double.”

“Your body double—?” Cas started, with all the exaggerated facial contortions that told Dean he was dying inside. He rearranged his face into something like resignation. “I thought you hated him.”

“I do. He’s a douchebag wearing my face. But, when am I ever going to get the opportunity again to fuck myself? Like, literally?” Cas’ expression hadn’t changed. “So?” Dean pressed.

“No, uh. No. No.” Cas shook his head. “He has a me in his world, remember? Don’t you think it would be strange for me to be involved?”

“Yeah…” That was a good point. Rich Dean _had_ been getting a little too close for comfort with Cas the last time he was over. The last thing Dean needed was to create any more non-sexy tension between all of them.

“But,” Cas continued, “if _you_ want to have relations with your,” he sighed and used finger quotes, “‘body double,’ then go ahead.”

“Wait, really?”

“You’re right, this is a unique opportunity. I suppose you would be curious.” He frowned. “It is very strange though.”

“Best. Husband. Ever,” Dean said, leaning over to punctuate every word with a kiss. Cas rolled his eyes, but Dean could tell he was fighting back a smile.

Now that he had Cas’ permission, Dean had to decide how to go about this. He found his body double in the kitchen because _of course_ he would be there. He and Not-As-Hot Dean were more similar than he wanted to admit. Hopefully similar enough that his body double wouldn’t be too shocked with what he was about to suggest.

“Hi, uh, how’s it going?” he asked. 

Not-As-Hot Dean looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table—alone, thankfully. Dean did _not_ need Sam getting wind of this. “Good,” he answered hesitantly, looking surprised that Dean was talking to him.

Dean walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer bottle, and leaned on the counter. He studied his boots, then the floor, then looked back at his alternate universe self, trying to decide where to start. Not-as-Hot Dean was adjusting the sleeves of his shirt—Dean’s shirt—and no, Dean was still not okay with his body double wearing his clothes, but he would let it slide for now.

“So, uh, this is weird, isn’t it?” he started. “You know, us having the same face. Being sorta the same person—”

“I can guess where this is going,” Not-As-Hot Dean interrupted.

“You can?”

“You think we should have sex.”

“And you…” Dean tried to read Not-As-Hot Dean’s expression and decided to play it safe, “don’t want to?”

“We are very different, but not that different. Let’s be honest, Dean, this was always inevitable. I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

Dean grimaced at his body double using their shared name, but he was going to have to get over that discomfort considering where things looked like they were going. “Right, uh, well, great.” He straightened off the counter. “You’re not as lame as I thought.” Not-As-Hot Dean smiled. “I’m not drunk enough for this yet, so…” He grabbed another beer from the fridge and started to toss it to his doppelgänger, then thought better of that idea and set it down in front of him. 

Not-As-Hot Dean looked askance at the bottle, then reached for it, admitting, “That does seem like a good idea.”

To tell the truth, Dean didn’t think he’d ever be drunk enough. And Not-So-Lame Dean was apparently a nervous talker because he wouldn’t shut up. Dean was learning more about the Rich Winchester Universe than he’d ever cared to. Turns out Not-Sam was incredibly invested in manscaping. Dean stored away that information to torture Sam in the future.

Opening his third beer, listening to Not-So-Lame Dean babble about a vacation to an exclusive resort, Dean realized he was going to have to make a move. Preferably soon, because if Not-So-Lame Dean mentioned his private jet one more damn time, Dean was going to throw something.

Summoning his courage— _I stopped a damn apocalypse, I’ve fought God_ —he grabbed his doppelgänger’s shirt, yanked him across the table, and kissed him. 

It was weird. It was as weird as he’d expected, but maybe not as horrible as it could be. Maybe. 

Breaking their kiss, he pulled back. 

“Oh,” Not-So-Lame Dean said. They both stared at each other, then looked away hastily.

“You wanna back out now?” Dean asked, studying a scrape on the table. 

After a pause, Not-So-Lame Dean answered, “No.” 

“Well, then.” _I_ _kill monsters for a living, this is sex for fuck’s sake._ Dean stood and grabbed his beer. “Let’s go somewhere else, because I don’t need my brother or, fuck, Jack, walking in and seeing this.” 

Not-So-Lame Dean nodded and Dean led the way out of the kitchen.

Time to see if he could get it up for himself. 

Having sex with your doppelgänger, Dean was learning, was not an easy task. For starters, while his doppelgänger looked identical to him—especially wearing Dean’s clothes—he proved they were as different as could be the moment he opened his mouth.

On the way to Dean’s room, Not-Dean established some ground rules—no handcuffs, no gags, no, in general, anything kinky—as if fucking your alternate universe self wasn’t already the kinkiest thing you could do. 

Maybe his doppelgänger was right, Dean thought, pushing open the door to his room; it was probably best to stick to the basics. 

His brain was still playing catch up as they situated themselves on his bed and continued what he’d started in the kitchen. Turns out, kissing himself wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It probably wasn’t going to become his new kink, but he wasn’t hating it.

His cock was still late to the game, but he figured, unbuttoning his pants to palm himself, that was nothing he couldn’t fix. Then he changed his mind and groped his way into his doppelgänger’s pants, finding, thankfully, a cock identical to his. Chuck would’ve really had to watch his back if Dean found out his alternate universe self had gotten a bigger dick.

Not-Dean followed suit and, for all his douchebaggery, he wasn’t so bad with his hands. Dean was causally impressed with his not-self.

Then clothes started coming off. 

Yes, he’d looked in a mirror before, but this was something entirely different—his own body, but completely separate from himself, acting with a mind of its own. It was unsettling, to say the least. Plus, he wasn’t going to lie, he had his insecurities, and seeing himself in all his glory wasn’t helping any. Why did his belly button look so weird? When had he gotten so goddamn old? What the fuck was up with his elbows?

“This is strange,” Not-Dean said, stating the obvious. 

“Mhm,” Dean agreed, completely unable to look away from the sight before him. His body, but not his body. For a moment he started to question who he was—was that him? Or was he, him? Was this all a bad trip? No, but seriously, he could’ve sworn his elbows weren’t that knobby.

He realized Definitely-Not-As-Hot (and-He-Wasn’t-Just-Saying-That) Dean was watching him expectantly and bemoaned the fact that of all the alternate universe Deans to show up in the bunker, he’d gotten stuck with boring, fancy clothes wearing, nervous talker Dean. Why couldn’t he have met some jacked, alpha male version of himself who’d take charge and fuck him into the mattress? 

_Okay, focus,_ he told himself. What was the number one thing he wanted to cross off his bucket list?

“Can I blow you?” he asked. “Or is that on your ‘Absolutely Not List’ too?”

“Of course fellatio isn’t on my list—”

“Alright, great,” Dean said. “Sit back.” He was assuming Knobby-Elbow Dean wasn’t opposed to being bossed around.

“Okay, okay.” Not-Dean complied and Dean situated himself between his legs (was he really that bow-legged?). To spare his pride, he was going to pretend that his stomach was absolutely more toned; Not-Dean had obviously let himself go. Then he noticed one thing they definitely didn’t have in common. 

“You don’t have any scars.” Before Not-Dean could reply, he remembered. “Oh, that’s right, you have employees who go on all the hunts for you.”

“I do go on hunts!” Not-Dean protested. “Sometimes,” he amended to Dean’s skeptical look. “It’s just that, Castiel always heals me when I get hurt.”

“Our universe Cas heals us too, only he didn’t get rid of all my scars.” Dean sat up straighter to point to a small, faded line on his stomach. “He says they give me personality, or whatever.” 

“Your Castiel is very different from ours. Which, actually...” Not-Dean propped himself up on his elbows. “That reminds me, I have a question about angels—”

“For the love of fucking everything...” Dean pushed Not-Dean back against the pillows. As much as he would love to discuss the wonderful peculiarities of Castiel, there were more pressing matters on his mind—mainly, deep throating himself. 

Not-Dean settled back with a huff, and Dean only hesitated a second before licking a streak up not-his-cock, successfully stopping any more conversation.

Now, _this_ he could get used to. In fact, he was mildly jealous of Cas for getting to go down on him all time. Not-Dean thrust up into him with a low groan, and the prospect of choking on his sorta-own cock had Dean feeling giddy.

Then, he got a better idea. As much as he was loving having his cock in his mouth, what he would love even more was having his cock up his ass.

Pulling off his doppelgänger, he asked, “Can you fuck me?” 

Not-Dean looked affronted. “That’s very crass,” he said haughtily, and Dean rolled his eyes. “But, um, well, I was going to ask if you would, um… fuck _me_.” 

Of fucking course. But there were worse things in the world than fucking not-himself, so Dean agreed, and after some preparation, he found his way two fingers inside not-his-ass. 

It was at once the strangest and near hottest thing he’d ever seen: not-himself squirming and gasping under him at the end of his fingers. Ducking his head, he sucked and bit not-his-neck, tweaked not-his-nipples, unable to stop a smile at the favorable reaction that caused. Not-Dean grabbed his jaw and kissed him, licking his way into his mouth, and Dean changed his mind—kissing himself _was_ his new kink. 

Then he was three fingers, three knuckles deep, and Not-Dean started to moan, which was even hotter—or would’ve been, if he hadn’t started to form words.

“Oh,” he gasped. “Good gracious.”

_And_ Dean was soft again. 

“Fuck you,” Dean said, pulling his hand away. The only thing worse than hearing those words come out of not-his-mouth was hearing them in his voice. Not-Dean’s eyes fluttered open and focused on him in a frown. “Short of gagging you, there’s no way I’m going to be able to fuck you.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Not-Dean pushed himself up to sit. “And I’m sorry you’re having a difficult time, but I’m not finding this exactly easy myself.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not your biggest fan either. In fact, I find you quite offensive. For one, you’re _very_ bossy.”

Dean tried to get a word in and Not-Dean cut him off, “Two, this bed is not as comfortable as you promised—”

“It’s memory foam!” Dean protested.

“—You’re rude, you’re not hospitable _at all_ , you have a ridiculous amount of ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ magazines—”

“Hold on!” Dean interrupted. “How the fuck do you know that?” A guilty look spread across his body double’s face. “You were rummaging through my shit! I specifically told you my room was off-limits!” 

Swearing under his breath, he started to get off the bed. He gave up. This had been a mistake, clearly. Not-Dean was the absolute worst and someone Dean would’ve never had sex with otherwise if they weren’t sharing the same face.

Not-Dean grabbed his arm, halting his escape. “Wait, no! We’ve gotten this far, we can’t stop now.” Dean huffed, but paused to hear him out. “Yes, I’ll admit,” Not-Dean continued, “I went through your room. But, in my defense, I was bored! The television shows in your universe are not nearly as entertaining as in ours, and you and Sam were gone for so long...”

Dean stopped listening then. Not-Dean was right about one thing—they couldn’t stop now. He wasn’t a quitter. And, he had an idea for shutting Not-Dean up. 

“Listen, we’ll sixty-nine it and get this over with, alright?” 

His doppelgänger blinked at him, his spiel interrupted. Slowly, he nodded. “I suppose that will work.”

It did work, actually, and pretty well at that. Occupied with blowing him, Not-Dean was sufficiently distracted from embarrassing himself and Dean with any more “good gracious” nonsense. And it turned out that despite their differences, they were similar enough to know how to get each other off. Dean paused just to look down at the incredible sight of not-his-face sucking off his own cock. He had to get a good look because he’d learned his lesson—this was the last time he’d try to have sex with an alternate universe version of himself.

Maybe because they were the same person—physically at least—they ended up reaching their orgasms at nearly the same time. It was the closest they’d ever come to solidarity, Dean thought, laying back on the bed physically and mentally fucked. 

“Well,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “That wasn’t horrible.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Not-Dean agreed. “And I might even add that I think we both learned something about ourselves today, bonded even—”

“Okay, shut up.” Dean pushed himself to sit. “We crossed this off our bucket lists, now we’ll never speak of it again.”

“Thank goodness,” Not-Dean said. “Agreed.”

* * *

“How did it go?” Castiel started to ask, turning from shelving a book when Dean entered the library. Started to ask, because Dean grabbed him and kissed him before he could finish his sentence. Cas let out a small noise of surprise, then smiled against Dean’s mouth before kissing him back.

“I hate myself,” Dean said, breaking their kiss only after sufficiently leaving himself breathless.

Cas’ mouth twitched. “Which one?”

Dean rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist. “You know, you’re lucky to have gotten stuck with me,” he pointed out. “You could’ve ended up in Douchebag Dean Universe.”

“I did get the best version of you,” Cas said thoughtfully, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. He smiled a little. “Do you need me to erase your memory?”

“I’m considering it.” Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and pulled him from the library, pressing another kiss to his lips—which were, thank god, so different than his own—before asking, “Do you want to help me forget another way?”

Smiling, Cas tugged Dean's collar to pull him down for another kiss. "I think I can help with that."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! this fic was kinda different than what I usually write, but I had to begin and end it with destiel because I can't not write dean/cas shit :)
> 
> comments are always appreciated, and you can check out my tumblr [here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
